


Resurrection

by ziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff and Angst, Heartache, Romance, gerard is dead in this canon but its because i killed him, mercymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 00:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: Angela Ziegler reflects on how she first fell in love, the heartache that follows from Amelie's disappearance, and how they are forced to dramatically re-adjust to life after Talon when the woman who is now Widowmaker gets torn back from their clutches.





	Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> can yall believe i have never written mercymaker...what kind of self-respecting lesbian am i
> 
> i gave amelie back the last name "guillard" in this because in my version of events she's never been married. hope you enjoy!

At night, Angela often found herself plagued by the memory of one woman, and completely trapped in an intricate spider’s web.

Amelie Guillard. The woman that had _everybody_ in the palm of her hand. The woman with a silver tongue and a sword for a will who once stood atop the world, cutting through anything and everything that stood in her way. It took guts to put yourself in that position of power. It took a _lot_ of guts to realize the danger you would be placing yourself in, and still willingly want to climb the ladder there. As after all, who would catch you when you fell?

Amelie didn’t know at that time. She had both everybody and nobody all at once; and as well as that, Amelie Guillard was as much of a womanizer as she was hungry for power.

Hungry for attention, desperate for affection. Angela could read the signs like a book all over her at first, watching her flirting with the women cadets, and even trying her luck with Captain Amari – to no avail, unsurprisingly. Amelie Guillard’s conquests were no secret. For a woman who looked to be so refined, she was surprisingly shameless.

And yet, Angela wanted her affection back then. She had craved it.

What she hadn’t realized was that falling in love with Amelie would prove to be her biggest mistake. But not for perhaps the reasons she might have suspected; instead, it was not that Angela had fallen in love with the wrong person, but instead a person in a position of power.

A power that would eventually lead to Amelie’s own demise…and throw Angela Ziegler herself into a cacophony of grief until something was done about it.

On this particular night, Angela finds herself sitting outside on the patio bench, just besides the portable, pop-up station that Overwatch provides her with as the team medic. She lives amongst the smells of medicine and soothing ointments, and surrounds herself with anaesthetics of a hypocritical kind. A cigarette hangs low from between her full lips, and the paper sticks to the surface of her skin just enough to feel therapeutic. The sound of a lighter’s click is relaxing. The sound of the ice cubes that have melted just so to clink together in the whiskey glass at her side is, too. She leans her head back and exhales smoke towards the stars in the sky above her.

Tonight, Angela is not alone. Tonight, Angela _has_ the woman she loves, wrapped around her arm and fast asleep against her shoulder.

Amelie Guillard – the woman now known as Widowmaker – was gradually beginning to get back to normal.

Angela smiled to herself as she kissed her lover’s head as they sat.

At the beginning of this month, just a couple of weeks ago, Angela Ziegler had done something about her situation. It had been a lengthy extraction process, assisted with by several other Overwatch agents that owed Angela a big favour or two for all of the times she had saved their lives. Mercy, as opposed to Angela, had insisted that this was a covert operation. Not a soul outside of this group must know. That was the mission given to them by _Mercy_.

But when Angela took the reins, she let them know that all she wanted was the woman she loved back; and, even though she felt so incredibly uncomfortable leading them all into Talon territory, she didn’t know what else to do. This was something that she couldn’t accomplish on her own.

Both Angela Ziegler and Mercy had to ask for help.

The group Angela had gathered had not protested. They knew this woman had given them the opportunity to live. She had given them back the opportunity to kiss their loved ones, to hold them, to live their lives with those they adored. They were willing to do the same for her.

And; after dancing through the shadows and several different security contraptions; Widowmaker was tranquilized and kidnapped.

“How long are you going to remain asleep tonight?” Angela whispers to herself with a warm smile, her words coming out in a smooth breath of smoke. “Just what _happened_ to you, Amelie? How on earth did you end up in that state?”

She inhales all over again, as she feels the cold press of her once-warm lover curl up against her. Widowmaker was supposed to be a terrifying, ruthless assassin; not this helpless, destroyed woman that Angela once fell so madly in love with.

The tobacco swirls in her lungs and the nicotine massages her brain.

“…Amelie…”

The word formation makes her tongue feel comfortable.

How long had it been, since she had been able to say that name like that?

The memories that haunt Angela are all of the same nature. They all include flashes of the ways that Amelie used to make her blush.

Their first meeting – their first _real_ meeting – was six months into Amelie’s promotion to becoming the top brass of Overwatch.

“Angela Ziegler,” Amelie had said through her usual, smooth huskiness. “It is a pleasure to finally meet a genius like you. Truly, you are the saviour of all of our operations. Even to the point our own Captain Amari uses your technology, no?”

Angela smiled warmly.

“And it is a pleasure to meet _you_ , Miss Guillard. I’m just glad I can help.”

Amelie had flashed a smile. Angela felt a pink tinge poking from behind her cheeks.

“…Mm,” Amelie replied. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, and her gaze was more of a smoulder than a casual look. Angela felt herself melting.

_So this is why everyone falls in love_ , Angela thought to herself.

“What brings you here, Miss Guillard?”

Amelie waved a hand, and the glint of a silver bracelet jangled against her skin.

“Please, call me Amelie…” she insisted. “Miss Guillard always feels so formal.”

Angela smiled.

“Alright…Amelie.”

“Angela,” Amelie began with a smirk. “I’ll get right to the point of why I came here tonight.”

“…Oh?”

“Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?”

Angela blinked incredulously.

“For dinner? With you?”

“Oui. May I have the honor? I know this is our first meeting, but…” Amelie paused. “I have had my eye on you for a long time.”

Angela had laughed coyly. Amelie had felt her lungs fill with the blossoms of a budding love.

“Oh…I don’t know about that,” Angela said quietly. “I’m flattered, but…”

“Miss Ziegler…” Amelie quickly interrupted in a gentle tone. “I’m quite aware of what my romantic history within the workplace lends to my credit, in terms of requesting an audience with you. But even despite that…I would be truly flattered.”

Angela paused.

Amelie placed a hand on her chest.

“Will you?” she asked. “If you decline, then I shall not bother you again. Of that, you have my word.”

Angela felt her cautious smile turn into a flirtatious smirk. _She’s charming, isn’t she?_

“…Alright.”

“Oui?”

Angela grinned, and nodded. “I suppose one night can’t hurt.”

Amelie had smiled bigger than even she herself realized she could.

“…Excellent. Then I shall pick you up at seven tonight, mademoiselle.”

Both Angela and Amelie didn’t know it back then, but that was the conversation that would change both of their lives forever.

As the two women sit, Angela breathes a relieved sigh at the knowledge that for now, the one she loves is finally safe. Her hands warmly hold Amelie’s own, and her lips tingle with the unending desire to kiss her. And for Angela, her mind can finally, at least a little, think safely on the memories she used to love.

Their private liaisons in the medical office; stolen kisses pressed against a warm neck in the room Amelie often called her home, right at the top of Overwatch’s headquarters, and all the ways that in the heat of particularly romantic moments, Amelie used to spout off about how she wanted to marry Angela. Angela remembered the smiles that formed in the muscles of her cheeks, and the sensation of her lips tingling and in between her legs aching.

“Come here,” Angela remembers saying in between a breathless moan. Amelie would always be so warm; her skin would always be so soft. Angela always has to cross her legs in the stiller moments of her life when she drifts off thinking about the intense kissing between them.

Angela closed her eyes.

The inverse that followed was always horrible. She remembers, even with Amelie – as destroyed as she is – at her side, just how terrible the agonizing, torturous rip of her soul from finding out that Amelie was gone felt; the ways her knees had buckled and her throat had become hoarse from crying. Perhaps, what was worse, was the memory of the cold snap that happened inside when Ana put forward that perhaps she had gone _willingly_.

“She would never do that!” Angela had bitten back; an oppressive storm of anger snarling through her bared teeth. “She would _never_ do that! Not to Overwatch, or to me! How can you say such a thing, Ana?!”

“Angela,” Ana had replied calmly, and placed her hands on Angela’s shoulders. A pause followed as she felt the woman in her arms shaking. “…I’m not saying she _did_. I’m saying we should consider it a _possibility_. There are -”

“No we _shouldn’t_ , Ana!” Angela shouted, and slapped Ana’s hands away from her. “Ugh! Just…just leave me alone! You’ve all been so quick to abandon her…if you won’t do anything about it, then I’ll do it myself!”

The memories. They really were always the worst part. Angela had found out first hand that you couldn’t heal away the mind’s ailments of grief.

“What are you thinking about?”

Angela’s ears felt a jolt surge through them, as her head turned to face the dark visage of her lover. Her golden eyes, her off-blue skin; Angela felt the pain of not having helped her sooner always prodding at her heart.

“Amelie…!”

“…That name…” Widowmaker says, and Angela can hear how tired she is. “I have not heard it in so long, and when you return me to you…”

Widowmaker grimaces. Angela’s brow furrows as she places a warm hand on top of her lover’s cold one.

The first night Widowmaker returned, it was an emotional experience. Angela felt herself almost getting hysterical with a mixture of grief and happiness; Widowmaker felt herself, when she woke up, alarmed and murderous. She jumped on Angela at first, wrapping her hands around the medic’s neck; but as she squeezed, she found that her grip had lessened, and as Widowmaker’s dark hair messily fell across both of their faces, her tears began to fall in large, unceremonious blobs on to Angela’s cheeks.

“Amelie…!” Angela had stammered out, in a fit of her own tears. Her warm hands had coiled around Widowmaker’s wrists. “You’re safe now! You’re _home_!”

After Angela had said that, Widowmaker had stumbled back; clutching her head, and screaming into the mattress of the bed. This had gone on for almost an hour until Angela had helped to sedate her.

The rest of the week was a mixture of tears, headaches, rehabilitation to the outside world without thinking that Widowmaker would view it as a hostage situation; and getting used to Amelie Guillard’s current form.

Angela didn’t mind.

The second week, Angela and Widowmaker had been significantly less emotional and violent with each other. Angela, as she sits with her lover on her bench even in the present, loves to remember the sensations that happened throughout each day that week. The feeling of not a word spoken between them, but instead, Angela allowing Widowmaker to just touch her face and her skin as much as she wanted.

Gentle strokes over her cheekbones, glides of what once were Amelie Guillard’s warm hands now coolly slipping through Angela’s blonde hair. The dark, piercing glare of Amelie’s newly golden eyes sunk into Angela’s skin, and eventually, her eyes softened to the woman before her.

“…You are not dangerous,” Widowmaker finally said into the open. Her words felt like a bullet of sound.

Angela’s voice caught in her throat with a smile.

“No, liebling. I’m not dangerous.”

“Why are you here…?”

Angela felt the tears bubbling up behind her eyes, and grabbed at Widowmaker’s cold hands.

“Because I love you,” Angela said. “I love you more than anything. I just can’t let you go.”

Widowmaker remained vacant.

And each day, they sat, until sunrise, exploring each other in a different way than they were used to. Widowmaker didn’t feel the need to kill. Not even once. And Angela was just so happy to see the woman she loved sitting before her in mostly one piece that she didn’t care.

On the beginning of the third week, Widowmaker began to fade back into Amelie for the first time.

“Are you okay?! What’s wrong?” Angela had declared, bursting in at the sounds of Widowmaker’s screaming.

“A…Angela?! _Aagh_!”

Angela gasped. _The mention of her name._ Could it be?

She rushed to Amelie’s side.

“ _Amelie_!”

Widowmaker pushed herself harder down against the mattress in agony. Angela’s eyes winced in pain.

“Gaaah!”

“Hold on, I’ll get you some -”

“No!”

A cold hand launched itself up from the side of Widowmaker’s hips, and a strong grip that wouldn’t let go of Angela’s wrist remained. Angela stood, frozen to the spot.

“No?” She repeated back in a voice that dared not hope for the best. “What do you mean?”

“I’m…” Widowmaker began, and unclenched her jaw for a moment. Her eyes were squeezing shut, blocking out the pain; and Angela began to realize what she was doing. “I’m…remembering. I remember…!”

“You remember?!”

“Angela…” Widowmaker said; and for a few moments, both women remained in silence; before Amelie Guillard got to her feet.

Widowmaker, for the time being, was gone.

She turned to face the blonde that adored her so with tears in her golden eyes. Angela gasped.

“Amelie…?” She asked gently. “Are you really in there?”

“Angela…” Her lover stammered out; and the tears streamed down her cheeks. “What on earth has happened to me…?”

Angela and Amelie embraced for the first time since reuniting that night.

Angela slept in Amelie’s bed. They shared their first kiss since their forced separation; Angela alarmed by the touch of cold lips being so firmly pressed against hers out of the blue, and feeling cold hands slipping up her back alongside it. It didn’t go any further than kissing; kissing for hours, even; which was surprising, if this had been the _old_ Amelie Guillard. But it was lips pressed to one another for the sake of love. For all that both of them had been missing all of this time.

Amelie and Widowmaker shared not just the same body now, but the same love for the woman before them. Angela held her lover tightly in her arms.

The day after, she began to consider leaving Overwatch for the sake of both Amelie, herself, and the headquarters. But for the time being in the present, the two women found themselves under cover of darkness. Amelie leant against Angela, wrapped up warm beneath a blanket and with a near constant headache, feeling for the first time in months like she was happy. She had no desire for power, not anymore; and she had no desire to kill. Widowmaker was gradually beginning to leave. The woman that Amelie Guillard once was had managed to hold on, dormant, all of this time.  

Angela stared at the warm hand that clenched onto the faded blue of Amelie’s own. Her thumb stroked over the knuckles silently for the fiftieth time tonight, and her other hand stubbed out her cigarette.

A free, cold hand suddenly and gently slid itself against her cheek; and pulled Angela’s face back with a surprised noise to face her own.

“…Amelie? What -”

“Shh.”

Angela felt cold lips pressed to her own again; and her own self melting as Amelie kissed her.

They didn’t say a word more after that. They didn’t need to.

Beneath the starlight of the sky above them, the warmth of the blanket, the cool, fading cold of Amelie’s body pressed against Angela’s own, this kiss was a perfect way to say hello again. They kissed, slowly, reminisce of the kisses they shared throughout the second week of Amelie’s return, and the kiss of both gratitude and life that they had both wanted so desperately to happen. Angela found the tears prickling at the edge of her eyes. Amelie Guillard, feeling Widowmaker almost entirely slip away in that moment, did the same.

_The kiss of the one you love,_ Angela thinks, _is the sweetest form of nectar_.

And Amelie Guillard can’t help but allow herself to smile for the first time in months; as for the first time since regaining her independent thought, she thinks how this time, she’d actually quite like to settle down now.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, then i'm happy to say i just finished writing my first game as part of Noodletub Games - and it's out on Steam right now! it's called The Ghost of You. if you want to sink your teeth into a suspense-horror-love story about an entirely lesbian cast, then please check it out [here](https://noodletub.tumblr.com/post/181306988281/the-ghost-of-you-out-now-on-steam)! thank you so much! ♥


End file.
